Chapter Two : The Boy Who Stole Flowers

"Good morning, Uncle Desmond!" I greeted cheerfully with my usual smile. "Lilies for your wife?"

"Aye, JJ," he said warmly with a grin that highlighted his wrinkles.

I handed over the silver-packed lilies to him which every day he religiously presented to his wife. Thirty years of zealous marriage and each day he brought flowers to his wife without fail. If I ever had a chance to fall in love with someone, I would have liked a love story like Uncle Desmond's. Keyword: If.

The bells chimed as one after another regular customer poured in to collect their flowers. Some for the church, some for their wives, mothers, and sisters, some for decorating their houses, offices, and stores while some just perused through the bunches of dainty flowers, enjoying the fragrance and freshness of morning bliss.

At noon, Grandpa drove the truck filled with a stock of spry, exotic flowers and unloaded them in the shop. Many summer weddings were coming up which meant more business. It astonished me on how much people spent on flowers during exquisite weddings. Grandpa and I, sometimes even Shaun were the only ones running our radiant, little flower shop.

I was aligning the flowers in the last row when the bells chimed and I turned around. My eyebrows rose up when the familiar boy from the bride walked in, cracking his knuckles and looking around nervously.

"Good afternoon, boy! What brings you here?" I asked blithely and his forehead creased in slight confusion as he scowled.

It had been over a week since that incident happened at the bridge and ever since then, I had been thinking about him. Although it was a small town and I knew almost everybody, I knew nothing about this boy. Who was he? Why was he here? Maybe to thank me, I could only assume.

"Have you come here to buy flowers?" I asked curiously and he nodded faintly, his gaze flickering to the variety of flowers and finally settling on the bunch of basic, red roses. "You want the roses?"

He ran a hand through his hair and reluctantly lifted his other hand to show four long fingers, indicating that he wanted four roses.

"Alright," I mumbled while picking up four roses and placing them on the countertop. "Last time I saw you, let's just say you weren't in your best condition, but hope you're doing well now."

He nodded again and then strangely looked outside the glass door.

A few minutes passed. I finally cleared my throat to seek his attention and questioned, "Are you buying the roses or not?"

The boy awkwardly tugged at the edges of the full sleeves of his sky-blue coloured shirt and I observed his actions closely. He seemed so surreal wearing a stiff shirt in summer and just looked out of place as an outcast. A social pariah, that was what he probably was, but I could care less.

Suddenly, his hands grasped the thorny stems of the roses tightly and he dashed outside the door. It took a few minutes for the incident to sink in my thick head. I stood there absolutely dumbfounded like an idiot.

"Hey! W-What even . . . Wait! You haven't paid for this!" I shouted, but to no avail because the boy was already running.

I scuttled outside the door and climbed on my bicycle to catch him. This was the first-ever robbery incident that happened at the shop and I was appalled. I couldn't let that boy get away with this easily, especially when I was the one who helped him to understand and not jump off the bridge. How dare he repay me like this!

He was running pretty quick and it was getting difficult to catch him even on my bicycle. Furiously, I pedalled after him on the streets which were always deserted in the afternoon due to the scorching heat. Suddenly, I felt nausea overwhelming me, suffocation and heaviness dawning on me. I couldn't breathe properly because of over-exerting myself. My vision turned obscure as I forcefully pushed the pedals.

I felt dizzy when I fell off the bicycle and moaned. The bicycle was leaning against me as I struggled to shove it away. My throat was dry and I licked my lips, I needed water. I shook my head frantically, trying desperately to regain consciousness, but the crushing weight of the bicycle and the heat of the blistering sun made it impossible for me to recuperate quickly.

I felt someone throw the bicycle away and a silhouette of a tall figure hovering over me. I blinked rapidly, my eyes squinting to see who the person was-who was kind enough to help me. Something clicked in me that it was the boy who stole the flowers and when he tried to pick me up, I weakly protested.

I heard him grouch something under his breath, but I couldn't decipher what. His words sounded like gibberish to me as a foreign language. His slender fingers grabbed my arm tightly as he lifted me up and dragged me towards the nearby tree. He released me and I sat below the gaunt shadow of the large tree, leaning tiredly against it.

I rubbed my eyes and vaguely saw him walking inside a butcher shop nearby, emerging out with a bottle of water. He stretched his hand gripping the bottle of water towards me as I meekly stared at him, my frail hand trying to hold it. He grumbled again which I couldn't comprehend as always and crouched in front of me.

His sea-coloured eyes bore into mine as he unfastened the lid and held my chin firmly, to lift it up and pour water in my mouth through my parted lips. Immediately, I felt at ease when the cold water trickled my throat and my burning eyes cooled down. He kept pouring the liquid, his eyes focused on my lips and I wheezed out when my mouth was filled with excess water, causing the water from my mouth to splatter all over his shirt. He muttered some profanities while I coughed continuously, the water going into my nose and he hesitantly knocked my head, again and again, trying to calm me.

When I felt better, he handed me a bottle of water. I clutched it feebly against my chest and inhaled deeply. He stared at me as I continued to take deep breaths and exhale loudly. Finally, he got up, gazing intensely at me for a few seconds as if understanding that I regained my full consciousness and then turned around to leave.

I quickly sprang to my feet or at least that was what I tried to (but nearly fell down again) and yelled, "You can't get away this easily! I caught you, you-you flower thief!"

He glanced at me from over his shoulder lazily, like he was mocking me. I felt pure rage consuming me and just because he helped my pathetic self, I wouldn't let go of him. Besides, it was because of him that I needed help anyway.

I sidled up beside him as he marched ahead. I instinctively pulled his shirt from behind which made him stop and I heard him take a sharp breath. He had no right to get irritated because if anyone had that right, it should have been me.

"Why did you steal those roses, huh? I could see how nervous you were to steal them, then why did you? Does it give you the cheap thrills or is it fun to be chased by a sick girl?" I demanded and his jaw clenched. "I could see it in you that you didn't want to steal, then why---"

"Because I had to!" he burst out and my eyes widened. I had never heard him speak till now, knowing he was shy by his behaviour so his sudden outburst took me by surprise. He lowered his head so he could look directly into my eyes causing me to flinch and bellowed, "I didn't have any money and when I got to know that you ran the shop, I knew I had to steal. To take an act of childish revenge because nobody asked you to save me that day."

He backed away and my lips were parted in revulsion. I stuttered miserably, "O-Oh well . . . Okay . . . I-I didn't save you, you have to save yourself because you can now jump if that's all you want and I wouldn't be there to stop you! You know that right? I wouldn't be there! It's all you in the end who can save yourself, you-you ungrateful piece of---"

I stopped because I instantly regretted being abrasive and wanted to take my insensitive words back immediately, but I didn't know how. I was such a horrible person and I didn't intend the words to come out the way it did. I wished my own suffering had made me some spiritual saint-like how I usually saw in books and movies. However, I wasn't even being human by being so reckless . . . I had to be more careful with my words.

Before I could apologise and admit that I did care about him, he stormed away and yelled back, "I will!"

A cold shiver ran down my spine, why the hell did I say that?

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A/N :

None of my characters are perfect and you'll see some character development as you read ahead. Choose your words carefully folks and live a non-regretful life xoxo.

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